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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28518018">Love to Hate Me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/justforfunforkicksforlaughs/pseuds/justforfunforkicksforlaughs'>justforfunforkicksforlaughs</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Falling In Love, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Angst, Triwizard Tournament, alternating pov, but primarily based on events from book 4, hermione and fleur are the same age, some references from half-blood prince thrown in there</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 20:02:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,414</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28518018</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/justforfunforkicksforlaughs/pseuds/justforfunforkicksforlaughs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Fleur is intrigued by Hermione as soon as she sees her. Hermione despises Fleur with every fiber of her being. </p><p>or </p><p>When two girls realize they're not as different as they thought</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fleur Delacour/Hermione Granger</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>59</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>just a note that hermione and fleur are both seventeen in this fic. it also does not begin with fleur's arrival to hogwarts - the first task has already passed and the second one will start in a couple of months. assume that Fleur's conversations with anyone French are in French, even if they are written in English. hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“It’s disgusting, really. I’ve taken to finding longer routes to classes because of them, did you know that? That’s why I’m always late to Charms.” </p><p>Fleur hums in response, lazily scanning the expanse of the courtyard in front of her. Groups of students are spread across the unkempt lawn, giggling amongst themselves as they gossip about the latest drama or their plans for the upcoming weekend. Some are playing pranks on a cluster of fear-stricken first-years, while others toss around a Fanged Frisbee, which Fleur is almost certain is banned on school grounds. She’s not surprised to see so many people outside – it’s the sunniest day Hogwarts has had this year by far, and that’s precisely why she herself came out into the courtyard. She pauses her scanning momentarily when she sees the Golden Trio in the far corner, Potter lowering his head as a bushy-haired girl speaks to him animatedly, gesturing without inhibition as she makes some kind of point. </p><p><em>Hermione Granger.</em> </p><p>The girl first captured Fleur’s attention when she was putting her name in the Goblet of Fire. She had just entered her name and smiled to the loud cheers that had erupted in response, but as she turned to leave, her eyes were drawn to a group of people huddled not too far from her right. Although she couldn’t hear them, it was clear that they were in the middle of an intense discussion – a discussion about her, Fleur quickly realized. The two boys were shooting Fleur furtive glances, while the girl, a brunette who looked to be about Fleur’s age, was sending her nasty glares when she thought Fleur wasn’t looking. So distracted was Fleur by the scene that it took her a moment to realize that the black-haired boy in the group was Harry Potter. </p><p>Although Fleur was no stranger to people staring at her, there was something undeniably different about this group. No, not the boys, who immediately averted their gazes after they realized they’d been caught, but the girl, who despite her cheeks noticeably reddening, met Fleur’s gaze and stared back at her with a cold expression. Fleur wasn’t sure to be impressed or offended by the other girl’s dismissal, as most people couldn’t even meet her eyes in a conversation, but knew with absolute certainty that she needed to find out more about this strange girl. </p><p>She didn’t have to look very far – the girl, whose name Fleur quickly learns is Hermione Granger – is in both her Potions and Transfiguration courses. She watches in fascination when Hermione’s hand shoots up at meteoric speeds during class and the almost furious intensity with which she jots down notes into her textbook. While Fleur hasn’t ever spoken to the other girl, in her mind she now has formed a picture of who Hermione is – sharp, intelligent, loyal, The Brightest Witch of Her Age, and The Girl Who Hates Fleur’s Guts. </p><p>“And it’s genuinely the most – Fleur, are you even listening to me?” </p><p>“Hm?” Fleur tears her gaze away from the scene before her and looks at her cousin. “Yes, I heard you. All the boys are running after you as always, you can’t stand it, blah blah blah.” </p><p>“Fleur!” Adrianna mock-glares at her. “I’m being serious, you know.” </p><p>“We are veela,” Fleur waves a hand dismissively. “You cannot have expected otherwise, Adrianna.” </p><p>Adrianna rolls her eyes. “It doesn’t make it any less annoying, though.” She raises an eyebrow. “I’m surprised that you aren’t complaining yourself, considering that as many boys, if not more, are following you around. Not only are you a veela but a Triwizard Champion – it’s practically asking for guys to throw themselves at your feet and follow you around like a lost puppy.” </p><p>Fleur shrugs. “I ignore it.” At Adrianna’s sound of disbelief, she bumps her cousin’s shoulder teasingly. “Not all of us are as sensitive as you, Adrianna. And you know what they say, there’s only a fine line between love and hate…” </p><p>“What are you saying?” Adrianna scoffs, but she’s starting to laugh. “That I secretly enjoy the attention that I’m getting?”</p><p>“That’s exactly why I’m saying.” Fleur winks before standing up. “I have to go meet Maxime, but I’ll see you later, yes?” </p><p>“Of course,” Adrianna waves her hand. “You know where to find me.” </p><p>Fleur gives her a parting smile before hurrying away. Maxime did not like being kept waiting.</p><p>---</p><p>It is in Potions where she speaks to Hermione for the first time. Both her and Hermione’s partners are not present, so Slughorn pairs them together with a cheerful “I can’t wait to see what you come up with.” Fleur isn’t sure if she’s pleased or annoyed by this new development, as she’s seen what Hermione is like in class and the ire she brings when things aren’t dealt to perfection. </p><p>“So you are Hermione Granger.” She says, observing the other girl’s weary, resigned expression with some amusement. </p><p>Hermione looks at her flatly. “Yes.” She pauses for a moment, giving Fleur’s impeccably fitted attire a brisk once-over. “And you’re Fleur Delacour.” </p><p>“Pleasure,” Fleur smiles winsomely. “Now, onto the assignment, yes?”</p><p>“Right.” Hermione turns back towards her desk and Fleur takes the moment to observe the other girl, the way her eyebrows furrow in focus and how her fingers flip through the textbook with clear familiarity. “Like Professor Slughorn just said, it’s going to take time to brew, so I was thinking we split the workload? You can find the ingredients and prepare them, while I can do the potion-making itself. What do you think?”</p><p>“Sounds perfect,” Fleur responds breezily. She leans closer to take a look at Hermione’s textbook and is inexplicably satisfied when she hears the other girl’s breath hitch. “I will start with the Infusion of Wormwood and bring it back to you.” Without waiting for a response, she eases herself off the stool and heads towards the supply cabinet, searching for the aforementioned ingredient. </p><p>Once she finds it and measures the appropriate amount, she makes her way back to their desk. “Here.” she hands the vial to Hermione, who takes it gingerly before pouring it into the cauldron. </p><p>“Thanks.” Hermione scans the next item on the list. “Powdered Root of Asphodel is next. Five pieces, three centimeters each, and cuts should be diagonal.” Fleur nods in acknowledgment and turns to go back to the cabinet when Hermione speaks again. “Are you sure you don’t want to take your textbook with you? In case you forget.”</p><p>Fleur inwardly smiles at the skepticism in the other girl’s voice, but she smooths her face into impassivity when she turns to meet Hermione’s gaze. “Relax, Mademoiselle Granger,” she says coolly. “I have an excellent memory.” She turns on her heel, acutely aware of the burning stare Hermione has directed at the back of her head. </p><p>The rest of the class passes by fairly smoothly, and Fleur is beginning to think that they might actually be getting along when the other girl shrieks loudly enough for half of the class to look over at her in alarm.</p><p>“What is it?” Fleur leans forward and gasps at the light, whitish-gray color their draught has become. “What happened?” </p><p>“I don’t know!” Hermione frantically looks through the textbook, her finger trailing down the list of instructions. “I did everything perfectly, I don’t know what could’ve gone…” She suddenly looks up, eyes blazing with unbridled fury, and Fleur instinctively takes a step back. “How many pieces of Asphodel Root did you give me again?” </p><p>“Um…” A dark feeling begins to form in Fleur’s stomach. “Three, I think?” </p><p>“You – you –” Hermione’s face looks like it’s on the verge of purpling. “<em>Five!</em> It was five pieces, Fleur! How the hell do you mess that up?”</p><p>“Mon Dieu!” Fleur scowls. Yes, she fucked up, but does the other girl really have to be so scathing about it? “It is one mistake; surely it can be fixed.” </p><p>Hermione glares at her. “I told you to take the textbook with you, but what is it you said? Oh, <em>Mademoiselle</em> Granger,” she mocks, and Fleur’s lips tighten almost imperceptibly. “I have the most <em>perfect</em> memory.” She begins muttering lowly under her breath, but Fleur still manages to catch some of the words. <em>Arrogant, presumptuous, entitled French narcissist -</em> </p><p>“How about we try to salvage this, hmm?” Fleur would never consider herself a violent person, but right now she is seconds always from throttling the other girl’s neck. “I believe adding some extra Valerian root would darken the draught to the appropriate color.” </p><p>“You think so?” Hermione snarkily responds. “Well if you think so, then we should definitely do it, right?” </p><p>“Christ.” Fleur pinches the bridge of her nose and looks up, wondering why today of all days both of their partners had to be sick. “I cannot work with you.” </p><p>“The feeling is mutual.” Hermione glares at her balefully and opens her mouth to say more when Slughorn speaks. “Ten more minutes and I’ll be walking around to check on your draughts.” He calls out. “In the meantime, start cleaning up your area and take any residual materials back to the supply cabinet.” </p><p>Fleur immediately takes that opportunity to get away from Hermione, brushing her way towards the back of the classroom where she busies herself with putting the leftover ingredients back in their original spots. A bout of exhaustion seeps through her bones before she can stop it, and she closes her eyes for a moment in an attempt to compose herself. Her argument with Hermione, combined with the fact that she is making little to no headway with the golden egg, is causing her usual cool nature to flare up with frustration and irritability.

</p><p>That golden egg. It’s been residing on Fleur’s mind for the better half of the month, as soon as she got it really, and she’s no closer to cracking it now than she was then. She wonders if the other champions had already found out the key to opening it: Krum, Diggory, and Potter had seemed suspiciously unsurprised when Bagman announced what they’d be doing for The First Task, and those suspicions  only grew when she saw how adequately prepared each boy was during their task. Someone, or multiple people more likely, is feeding them information. </p><p>Unfortunately, Maxime, who had been the one to inform Fleur of what The First Task would be, does not seem to be hold such knowledge for the second one, as she so pointedly told Fleur several days ago. While unsaid, it was clear what the other woman was implying - <em> it’ll be up to you to figure things out this time. </em> </p><p>She returns to her seat when she sees that Slughorn is only a few desks away, sliding in gracefully behind the counter and ignoring the nasty look Hermione shoots her way. </p><p>“Ah, Miss Granger, Miss Delacour,” Slughorn says as he approaches them. “Let’s see what the two of you came up with.” He looks down at their cauldron, Fleur smiling politely, Hermione watching him with poorly concealed despair on her face.</p><p>“I must admit,” Slughorn steps back after a moment, surveying the both of them with some surprise. “Not quite what I was expecting from two witches of your caliber, but a fine job nonetheless. While I think it would most certainly function as it is supposed to, you could never be able to bottle these up and sell them to someone, could you? A Draught of Living Death this light!” he chuckles. Only Fleur returns it. “A little extra Valerian root would’ve done the trick, I think.”</p><p>Hermione, who had been steadfastly avoiding Slughorn’s gaze thus far, jerks her head upwards. “The trick, sir?” </p><p>“The color, Miss Granger!” Slughorn chortles. “Two more tablespoons of Valerian root and you have yourself a near perfect draught, not only in function but color.” Hermione pales. </p><p>Fleur’s never felt more satisfied in her life. </p><p>---</p><p>The end of the week comes fairly quickly, and Fleur realizes with a start that it’s Hogsmeade weekend when she overhears several students talking about their plans as they pass her in the corridor. She quite enjoyed her visit last time and is contemplating whether or not she should go again when someone calls out her name.</p><p>“Fleur!” </p><p>She turns around, recognizing the familiar voice, and smiles. “Adrianna.”  </p><p>“You’re going to dinner, yes?” Adrianna asks in French. “Come, let’s go.” The two of them stroll down the hallway together and into the dining hall, ignoring the blatant stares and whispers that follow their way. </p><p>“Are you going to Hogsmeade this weekend?” Fleur says once they’re situated at their usual spot at the Ravenclaw table. </p><p>“Yes, are you?” </p><p>“I was thinking about it,” Fleur shrugs. “But I have so much work to do, so I’m not sure. And I really need to crack that egg.”</p><p>“You should go, Fleur,” Even without glancing at her, Fleur can hear the pleading in Adrianna’s tone. “It would do you good to get some fresh air. Not to mention how the other girls would love to see you.” </p><p>Fleur scowls at that. “But I don’t want to see them.” She moodily picks at her food, scrunching her nose in distaste as she stares at the lump of salted potatoes on her plate.</p><p>The conversation is silent for a moment. When Adrianna speaks again, her words are slower, more careful and deliberate. “You know it’s not their fault what happened, Fleur.” </p><p>“I know that!” Fleur snaps, and glares at two Ravenclaws who turn to look at her curiously. She knows that they can’t understand what she’s saying, but she’d very much rather have their probing gazes elsewhere if she’s going to have to speak about this. “I know that, Adrianna.” </p><p>“But you refuse to speak to them,” Adrianna says. Her voice is soft. “They just want to help you, Fleur. To support you.”</p><p>“They don’t understand.” Fleur says through gritted teeth.</p><p>“They don’t understand because you won’t let them in, Fleur!” Adrianna shakes her head. </p><p>Fleur’s eyes flash. “When I told them,” she says lowly. “Of what happened.” She lets out a derisive laugh. “They comforted me, of course, in the beginning. But when I stopped going out with them, when I stopped partying, when I stopped “being fun,” so to speak…” she trails off. “They didn’t care much for me, did they?” </p><p>“No, Fleur,” Adrianna says emphatically. “They stopped reaching out because you shut everyone out. Even to me, you wouldn’t open up for months.” She reaches out to touch Fleur’s hand, and sadness suddenly seeps into her voice. “I know that you were in immense pain, Fleur. But because of it you became so cold, distant. It was hard to help you because you built walls so high nearly no one could penetrate them.” </p><p>“So they are not true friends then.” Fleur fixes her gaze onto her plate and refuses to look away from it, no matter how much her stomach feels like it’s lurching. “If they really cared, they would’ve accepted that I was hurting so horribly that I couldn’t do anything but stay in my room. Crying. Regretting. I was in no position to speak to anyone, much less entertain and have guests.” She stands up. “Have fun at Hogsmeade.” </p><p>“Fleur-” she hears Adrianna call out but she ignores it, swinging her legs out from underneath the table and making her way out of the dining hall, head held high with a confidence she does not feel. On her way out her eyes instinctively meet hazel ones from across the room, and the lack of malice she sees in them surprises her. Instead, they’re full of the curiosity that Fleur has only seen during lessons, when McGonagall introduces a new spell or Slughorn is going on about some elaborate potion. Feeling slightly off balance, she smiles mockingly and is relieved to see the scowl return to Hermione’s face. The familiarity of it almost brings her a sense of comfort, and she walks out with her heart aching a little less than it had been minutes before.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>next we have hermione's pov</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Where do you reckon we should go next? The Three Broomsticks?” </p><p>Hermione tightens her coat around herself, barely registering the question as she desperately tries to warm her body. The wind is relentless today, a stark contrast to earlier in the week when the sun shone brilliantly across the entire grounds, and that combined with the icy temperature is making Hermione feel like her face has gone numb.</p><p>“Hermione?”</p><p>“Hmm?” Hermione looks up. “What is it?” </p><p>“Any ideas for where to go next?” Ron seems to be the only one oblivious to the cold; Harry appears to be suffering just as much as she is. “Honeydukes is close by as well, but with the stash Mum just sent, don’t think I’ll be needing anything from there at the moment…” </p><p>Hermione closes her eyes and counts to ten. When she opens them, she’s almost flabbergasted to see that Ron is still droning on about the parcel his mom sent him several days ago.</p><p>“Ronald!” she snaps, cutting him off mid-ramble. “My feet are freezing, I can’t feel my hands, and I think I’m minutes away from hypothermia. The Three Broomsticks is minutes away from here, isn’t it? Let’s go there.” She stomps away, not even bothering to check and see if Harry and Ron are following as she begins making her way towards the pub.</p><p>They quickly catch up to her (“Blimey, if you were so cold, why didn’t you cut me off some minutes ago?”) and soon they make it to the door of The Three Broomsticks. As Hermione expected the shop is nearly full, many clearly having the same thought as her about seeking some kind of warmth. She finds an empty booth towards the back and slides in, basking in the heat with an appreciation she doesn’t think she’s felt before. </p><p>She’s so distracted by the fact that she’s finally gained some feeling in her face that she realizes belatedly that they’re sitting only a couple tables away from a group of Beauxbatons students, the blue robes peeking out from underneath their woolen coats unmistakable. Hermione scowls instinctively, her gaze flitting through the group for the sight of blonde hair and is relieved when she doesn’t see any. She also notes with surprise that several Hogwarts students are also sitting with them – a few boys that she recognizes to be in the year above her. She rolls her eyes when she sees the dopey look on their faces, directed in particular towards a beautiful brunette who Hermione recognizes immediately as a veela. </p><p>“Three butterbeers, yeah?” Harry’s voice breaks from her thoughts. “I’ll be right back.” He makes his way towards the counter, leaving Hermione and Ron alone in the booth.</p><p>“So…” Ron says. “Some weather, huh?” </p><p>“Yeah,” Hermione tries to smile at him, but it feels more forced than anything, so she stops. “You didn’t seem too cold out there, though.” </p><p>Ron laughs. “What can I say, I have thick skin.” He hesitates for a moment before reaching out and putting his hand over hers. Hermione gapes at the sight for the slightest second before snatching her hand away. “Ron!” </p><p>“What?” He scratches the back of his neck, blushing. “Feels like a date, doesn’t it?”</p><p>Hermione snorts. “If you ignore the fact that Harry’s only meters away from us.” She shoots said boy a quick glance and almost laughs at the way he pointedly avoids looking at them. </p><p>“He’s not here now,” Ron offers her a crooked smile before leaning back, much to Hermione’s relief. “Enjoy it while we can, yeah?” </p><p>Hermione rolls her eyes but cracks a genuine smile this time. Recently she and Ron have been trying to shift their friendship in a more romantic direction, both admitting that they had feelings for one another, but they’re not quite at the stage yet where they could be considered dating. This is likely Hermione’s fault – every time Ron tries to take things a step further Hermione has the inexplicable urge to burrow herself in her room for several days and not come out. She doesn’t know if this is a result of her general aversion to romance or Ron specifically. </p><p>She tries not to think about it.</p><p>“Alright, here you go,” Harry slides back into the booth and hands them their drinks. </p><p>They thank him, and she watches in amusement as Harry’s offhand comment about how Quidditch practice would have to be cancelled in this weather leads to a full-fledged argument between the two boys about whether or not Gryffindor has a strong enough team to win the Cup this year. She rolls her eyes fondly but is quickly distracted by the sight of white-blonde hair coming into the edges of her vision. </p><p>Except it isn’t who she expected. Hermione blinks as she realizes she’s staring at the perfect miniature of one Fleur Delacour, from the silvery hair to the bright, mischievous blue eyes. Fleur's sister.</p><p>“Gabrielle!” She watches as Fleur emerges from the crowd only seconds later and reaches out to her sister, speaking rapid-fire French that Hermione, in her limited grasp of the language, cannot for the life of her understand. </p><p>She swallows as she realizes how unfairly good Fleur looks. Even wrapped in layers of clothing, Fleur’s lithe, willowy frame is clearly visible, and the light blue scarf she has carelessly tossed around her neck only serves to further showcase the color of her eyes. She doesn’t seem aware yet of the fact that nearly half the pub is sneaking glances at her, or perhaps she’s just become immune to it all. </p><p>“Fleur!” The brunette veela who Hermione had noticed earlier gets up. With a start, she realizes that the brunette is the same girl who Fleur had been arguing with at the dining hall last night. “You came!” She speaks English, perhaps for the benefit of the boys at the table whose eyes have now become completely glazed.</p><p>“Not by choice,” Fleur responds in kind. Even though they’re not exactly standing next to Hermione, they’re close enough for her to hear what they’re saying. “Gabrielle practically dragged me out.” </p><p>“Well, I am still glad you are here,” the brunette smiles brilliantly. “Come, come, sit.” She gestures towards their already crowded table, where several people begin to scoot over in haste to make room for the blonde veela.  </p><p>To Hermione’s surprise, Fleur stays rooted to the spot, her eyes flickering over the group with what seems to be poorly concealed distaste. “I don’t think so.”</p><p>Gabrielle tugs at her older sister’s hand, but Fleur still refuses to budge. “Come, Fleur,” one of the girls says. Although most certainly no veela she’s pretty as well, albeit in a sharp, angular sort of way, and her accent is much heavier than either Fleur’s or the brunette’s. “Sit with us.”</p><p>Fleur’s eyes immediately harden, and her voice gains a steely edge that Hermione has never heard before. “Like I just said, I would rather not.” She hesitates for a moment when she realizes Gabrielle looks like she is on the verge of tears. “Could you please take Gabby, Adrianna? She was promised a cup of butterbeer.”</p><p>The brunette – Adrianna – nods and takes a step forward to take Gabrielle’s hand. She also leans in to whisper something in Fleur’s ear, and whatever it is has Fleur tensing sharply for the barest of seconds. </p><p>“I will see you at the carriage.” Clearly an attempt to end the conversation, Fleur ducks down and chastely kisses her sister’s forehead. “Adrianna will take good care of you now.” Despite the tension between the two girls only seconds ago, Fleur shoots Adrianna a small, grateful smile before weaving her way out of the pub.</p><p>The entire interaction leaves Hermione feeling absolutely perplexed. Why had Fleur become so tense when she saw the other Beauxbatons students at the table? Or was it those Hogwarts boys that she disliked? And who exactly was Adrianna, the one girl at the table that Fleur seemed to implicitly trust, enough to ask her to look after her sister without a hint of reluctance or hesitation? </p><p>Hermione attempts to temper the emotions she begins to feel flaring up in her chest and turns her attention back to the conversation in front of her, but she’s not quite as successful as she’d like. Her thoughts keep flickering back to Fleur, to the thinly masked derision in her voice and the unusual iciness in her overall demeanor. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen the other girl behave that way.</p><p>No, Fleur Delacour is the charming, brilliant French witch who is her school’s Triwizard Champion, who has gotten nearly the entire student body and staff under her thumb, who is the absolute, total bane of Hermione’s existence. Hermione disliked the other girl as soon as she saw her, that silvery blonde hair tumbling elegantly down her shoulders as she tossed her name into the Goblet of Fire with absolute ease. She immediately felt envy – the other girl held herself with a kind of confidence that Hermione wished she could possess – that quickly turned into a fiery jealousy when she realized Ron was muttering to Harry about how stunning the girl was.</p><p>So not only does Fleur manage to bring out her insecurities in finest form, but the veela, who Hermione managed to painstakingly avoid speaking to despite sharing several classes with her, ruined things for her one Potions class when they were forced to pair up. Hermione went into it with about as open a mind as she could have, but Fleur immediately dashed any burgeoning hopes when her indolence cost them the entire potion. Admittedly, Hermione could have listened to Fleur’s suggestion about the Valerian root at the end, but Fleur was the one who had fucked their potion up in the first place. Ever since then, the two girls have been exchanging nasty glares with one another when their gazes meet – well, Hermione does, while Fleur shoots her that infuriating, all-knowing smile that makes Hermione’s fists clench.</p><p>No, Fleur is not as perfect as everyone thinks she is, and it feels like only Hermione can see it.</p><p>But that girl Hermione just saw, the one who brushed off her friends, who looked terribly unhappy for the smallest of moments, who is not all charming smiles and quips but also brittle words and cold dismissals, is not the Fleur she knows. </p><p>Maybe she doesn’t really know Fleur at all.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hope you enjoyed hermione's pov and got a glimpse into why hermione seems to hate (but doesn't really) fleur so much. also, i know i haven't exactly gotten into what happened that made fleur cut off ties with most of her friends - you'll have to keep reading to find out!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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